The Columbia 30 - Part 3
I better fill you in on a few missing details about my relationship and history with Josie. She and I had gotten married a few months earlier. I was a Canadian and could only stay in the U.S. for certain period of time before I'd have to return to Canada. She offered to marry me so I could get my Green Card and stay. We did. The one thing I never told her was—I had romantic feelings for her. She was two years older, beautiful, worldly, street smart, great sense of humor—in short I was head over heels in love. When we were married I said those vows like I meant them—even though both of us smoked a joint on the way to the chapel and were pretty high at the time. She seemed dazed in the ceremony, but I was focused and sincere. This complicated things since she was also having an affair with her boss at the Hyatt Hotel who was already married. Josie, an Italian champagne blond bombshell, had a thing for domineering Jewish men, like her boss. I told my apartment manager, Marcel, my feelings for her. He wisely said, “Don't ever tell her. She's not for you.” I was just a dumb kid who didn't know jack about the world and women, but I took his advice and kept my mouth shut.
Our marriage lasted only a short time. We'd opened a joint bank account to help make it look like we were really married in the full sense. I put my money in the account, but she didn't put hers in. In fact she started spending mine. I started receiving canceled checks and realized what was going on. I confronted her about it. She got angry and refused to discuss it storming off. The next day I went to the bank and closed the joint account and opened a new account just for myself at another bank. Later that afternoon she burst into my apartment to grab all her clothes out of my closet—another touch we'd added to make it look like we were a married couple living together when we weren't. She'd just been denied the use of the bank account, was humiliated and angry as hell. She demanded a divorce immediately or she'd call immigration to report me. I went to see Marcel again. He said “No worries. I'll call my lawyer John. He can set it up.” Later he told me it would cost $200 for the divorce. I met with them the next afternoon and handed John two crisp 100 dollar bills. He set the wheels in motion.
When the day came for me to go to court John met me outside and we went in together. He told me I would be called to the witness stand and he would question me. When this happened John asked me how long I'd been married and I told him “21 days.” You should have seen the unemotional court recorder's eye brows rise up. I was granted my divorce. But at this time in California it took one year for the divorce to become final in case the parties change their minds and reconcile deciding to stay married. Marcel served Josie with her divorce papers. Apparently she was a bit shocked. It's funny. That's what she wanted and now it surprised her? To make this crazy story get to the point—we eventually reconciled, not as man and wife, but as friends. Marcel had tipped me off that she would be calling me. We got together for a drink. She said she was sorry about the purchases. I had an immigration appointment coming up for my Green Card. There was a formal interview and she needed to attend. She did wearing her grandmother's wedding ring. I got my Green Card. I was back in the country I'd grown up in. I was very happy and thankful to Josie for making this possible. You see I was born in Canada, but spent my formative years in the States. My dad was a mechanical engineer who'd worked for Boeing aircraft in the Seattle area. After Dad got laid-off from Boeing for the second time—I was in high school by then—my parents decided to leave the USA, give back our Green Cards and return to Canada. I never felt like I fit in to Canada and missed the USA which was my home. So now I was once again a resident alien. I could live and work this side of the border.
Where was I? Oh yes, back to our story and Josie's anger, which her sister Ria had nicknamed “The Wrath of Josefa”. One thing my dad taught me was how to calm an excited or angry woman. I reached out and took her hand guiding her to a more secluded place in the courtyard to talk. As soon as I grabbed her hand she began to soften. My physical action took her by surprise. She made a startled quivering moan and went limp. I think because it was a caring move towards her not an angry one. I told her I was going through quite a time in this acting Program. It was no fun and the head teacher, Joshua, was riding me very hard. I said I see what you mean by domineering Jewish men. She smiled thinking of the affair she was having with her boss. She seemed to understand I was overwhelmed. Her attitude totally changed. She never brought up her brother staying with me again. Even after Jeff found his own apartment.
In my second acting scene things got worse. I played Starbuck from “The Rainmaker” with an actress named Jessica Nelson. Again I did my role like someone else: Burt Lancaster and the way he portrayed Starbuck. Soon Josh stopped the scene and began another scathing critique of me. At one point he asked me if I knew the actress in a biblical way. I said “Well I've asked her out.” She made a face and said to Josh “Do I have to stay in this scene?” I was hurt and quickly becoming the reject of the class. After his critique Josh told me to wait for him by his office. It was during a lunch break and the other actors walked by looking at me and I remember saying “I feel like a goldfish in a bowl.” Inside Josh's office he sat there wondering how to handle the situation. Then he said “I'm not sure what you are. Maybe you're not an actor, but a performer.” Well I sure as hell didn't know. I just couldn't grasp what he wanted or what this thing called professional acting was. I was completely lost at this point. I'd never encountered anything that so baffled me.
End of part 3
